


from a clear spring

by AliLamba



Series: Four Seasons [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Look It's Just Porn, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Rare Pairings, Sex Pollen, like a lot of it, this is the porniest porn i've ever porned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27499948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliLamba/pseuds/AliLamba
Summary: Zechs and Quatre get locked in a hangar, which is fine, except then all of a sudden it's very not fine. And then maybe it is again.
Relationships: Zechs Merquise/Quatre Raberba Winner
Series: Four Seasons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009707
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	from a clear spring

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this two days ago as a real dumb idea and now we’re here. Look I just cannot handle how much sex pollen is my favorite. Sex Pollen Anonymous here I come.

Zechs was staring at the picture of the shiba inu for probably way too long.

He swore under his breath.

“How much fucking longer?” he cursed, whipping his head around.

Quatre Raberba Winner was sitting on an overturned crate.

“Um,” he said, smiling gently. “I don’t know?”

“But you _texted someone_ , yes,” he snapped, standing. “You sent messages.”

“Um. Yes.”

Zechs hissed through clenched teeth, pacing across the floor. Oh what a mess. What a _fucking_ mess. 

_Just go into the hangar_ , they said. _Special Agent Winner will find you, show you the documents needed_. 

The documents. The fucking documents. He’d _looked_ at the documents an hour ago, and was just starting to wonder why they were in a fucking _hangar_ when he also realized the doors were fucking _locked._

He still wasn’t ready to believe that Winner had nothing to do with it.

Sure he was humming softly to himself and staring at the creepy pictures on the walls as if they were part of his own personal collection, but. Ugh. No. Why were there pictures on the wall to begin with??

There was a clunk from somewhere overhead.

Zechs’ attention snapped to the ceiling.

“What was that?” Quatre asked. Zechs shushed him.

He took a few cautious steps in the direction of the sound.

There was another clunk...this one _louder_.

“What the,” Quatre started, but, he didn’t get to finish, because:

Of the sudden influx of _gas._

It was coming out of the overhead vents with a hiss, its hazy peach color obvious even at their vantage. Zechs’ eyes _bulged_. Oh shit. Oh no. This was not good this was – this was _not good!_

Zechs lunged for the doors again, skipping past crates and – and – how long had that couch been there? Shit it didn’t matter, reaching the double doors, grabbing each handle and _wrenching_ at them with all of his strength.

Nothing.

Nothing!

“Oh my god,” Quatre said from behind him, his voice trembling, a bit. “Oh my god we’re really locked in here.”

“No we are _not_ ,” Zechs swore. “Take that direction! We sweep the walls for exit points!”

Zechs didn’t see whether his instructions were followed. He started sprinting down the right-hand wall, going in a clockwise direction around the room. His teeth were grit together furiously. How much time did they have? He spared a single glance at the ceiling, where the billowing smoke was still filling the room. Five minutes, six? What the fuck was going on? What the actual _fuck was_ –

“Ahh!”

Quatre yelled out with surprise as Zechs nearly went barreling into him, his high-pitched wail muffled only by the thick cotton of Zechs’ uniform.

Shit.

If Quatre was running into him – if he wasn’t shouting about some secret trap door he’d just run past – Zechs had been a soldier, too long maybe.

He…paused to breathe.

Just…shit.

Zechs glanced over Quatre’s head, eyes darting across every surface in the room. They’d swept the place already, over half an hour ago. There were no exits. There were no windows. There was just the one door. And the vents above…those were…so far out of reach, really. They’d never make it.

Quatre was eerily silent in his arms.

Zechs let him go, and lurched back a step.

“It’s…” Quatre said, and his eyes were very sad. “It’s over, isn’t it? There’s…there’s nothing we can do, now.”

Zechs grimaced, knowing it looked so much more like a snarl. He remembered what it felt like to yank at those doors. How they hadn’t moved a single inch.

Just.

_Shit._

“I found a couch over there,” he muttered. “It’s…a good a place as any, to…to die.”

He’d have to give Winner credit for not falling apart then and there. He spared another glance at the ceiling. There was a wall of it now, pushing ever lower.

They stalked back together to the couch, through the random crates and boxes. This wasn’t even a well-used hangar, honestly. He couldn’t even remember its original use. It was storage now. Storage, and…who the hell knew. Someone had put old posters all over the walls. They’d find him in a room with a fucking poster of a dog.

Zechs and Quatre found the couch and Zechs collapsed on it first, holding his head in his hands. He wanted his phone. He wanted to call someone. He didn’t even know who.

“My phone doesn’t have signal anymore,” Quatre murmured, and Zechs figured he’d predicted that, probably. “It...hasn’t for over ten minutes, actually. I...didn’t want to alarm you.”

Zechs put a hand over his face, sliding through the pale blond of his long bangs. Quatre’s hair was nearly the same color, actually. His was more honeyed, but. Well.

Like, wheat maybe. Wheat just at the end of August, when it was so dry and brittle. You could put a stalk of it in your mouth and suck on it, really. 

“Um,” Quatre’s voice suddenly sounded very close. “So, I’m having a bit of a problem.”

It was said with all the modesty of a schoolboy admitting he needed the hall pass, which, maybe should have been his first clue.

“Just, spit it the fuck out Winner,” he snapped, having no patience for timidity if this was the end of their fucking lives.

And when Quatre didn’t respond, Zechs was figuring that he really wouldn’t mind going out with a raging brawl, and he opened his eyes and turned on Quatre, really prepared to rip him a new one, when he realized Quatre was sitting quite still, one hand over his mouth.

And when he saw Zechs was facing him, his gaze travelled _up_.

“ _What_ ,” he snarled, voice harsh.

Quatre, unperturbed, picked up his other hand, and pointed his finger at Zechs’ crotch.

And then he pointed again.

Zechs was _really_ about to start shouting, but he turned to look at what Quatre was failing to articulate.

And the thoughts...skittered quite out of his head. Like pebbles before a rockslide.

He had...an erection.

Zechs crossed his legs, one over the other, coughing discreetly. He’d always thought it pathetic when others bragged about their manhood, for whatever reason. There was no reason to throw that information around. Plus it made others uncomfortable, so. 

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Probably some part of the dying process.”

Quatre cleared his own throat.

“I um. I have one too?”

Like stones now, over a hill. The boulders were coming, he knew. And then it all hit at once. 

“What...color, would you say, that smoke was.”

“What color?”

“...Yes.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a pink? Well, it was more orange than that wasn’t it. So maybe a…a peach maybe? I guess I’d say peach.”

Zechs closed his eyes. He closed them, and sank back onto his side of the couch. 

“I have good news Quatre,” he mumbled.

“Oh?”

“We are not going to die.”

“Oh well that’s good.”

Zechs ground his teeth together again. 

“My next question might startle you.”

When Quatre was silent, Zechs cracked an eye to make sure he was listening. He was still perched on the other side of the couch, his own erection hidden by his own crossed legs. Zechs’ legs were spread now, and he was a little surprised and a little annoyed that Quatre was staring at his face. He closed his eyes again, adjusting his weight.

“Have you ever been with a man,” he breathed, and he fully expected the silence that followed.

But not necessarily the…the _chortle_ , really.

Zechs opened his eyes again.

“What,” he snarled again.

Quatre was trying not to laugh. “Um, it’s not funny I suppose. It’s just, well, yes. I thought everyone knew. Trowa and I were engaged until last year.”

Zechs tried to think then, tried to remember any mention he could remember. What? Agent Barton? He’d transferred to one of the colonies eight or nine months ago, but, he’d thought it was for a promotion, or…

His jaw clenched again. Whatever. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered.

“So we’re not going to die?”

“Didn’t I just say that?” he snapped, his cock giving a painful throb. Ugh shit it was already starting into the next phase. “Quatre, I’m sorry to be so blunt, but we need to fuck.”

“We need to – “ Zechs realized he was staring at him when he saw Quatre’s wince, when he saw him reach for his groin.

His own groin was very overwhelming. “Yes we need to fuck!”

“But I – “ Whatever protest he was about to make, Quatre suddenly doubled over with something – probably the same amount of tightness that was currently gripping Zechs’ balls. “Okay!” he wheezed. “We have to fuck.”

And before Zechs had even barked another order, Quatre was scrabbling to the other side of the couch and reaching for Zechs’ fly. 

Relief dumped through his bloodstream at the very sight of Quatre sinking to the floor. Oh thank god. Oh thank all the fucking gods. Zechs pushed Quatre’s hands away, slipping open the button, splitting the fly, raising his hips to slip the pants and briefs off his hips at once. He hadn’t even sat back down yet before he felt warm lips on him. 

_Thank. God_.

Quatre working him over, with tongue and lips and breath, gave him leave to _think._ Because this…this was a drug he recognized.

He’d forgotten who had fucking made it. Chang, probably. Fuck that guy. No, Doktor S he was the weird one. It had crossed his desk at some point, and at first he’d insisted that it was some disgusting joke, until Noin was laughing, telling him it absolutely wasn’t, that government money had been spent on an _airborne sex drug_ , and that it in fact had a very distinctive _peach color_ , just for added mockery. It had been her job to see how it could be weaponized, and she’d come straight to Zechs’ desk just to laugh about it. 

She’d also managed to swipe a sample.

It was supposed to be, at worst, a major letdown. At best it would be something to do on their day off.

What they hadn’t expected was the sheer panic of actually feeling the _necessary_ _compulsion to fuck each other for hours and days on end_. That eating, sleeping, bathing was all forfeit in lieu of attaining sexual release. Actually, that was the biggest problem, really. It wasn’t so much that you needed to get off it was that you _kept needing to get off_. It wasn’t even a priapic medical emergency. You could...deflate, but, within minutes, with just the slightest provocation you were ready, not only ready but _desperate_ for more.

At some point it got a little old and they’d tried to just stop. But it was just, the drug only clicked off at a certain level of hormone flood. It wasn’t enough to fuck twenty times in a day you had to fuck twenty times and _enjoy it_.

Which made it very hopeful, that Quatre knew what the fuck he was doing with his mouth.

“Shit, Winner,” Zechs grunted, hands digging into the sofa to avoid holding onto his head.

Quatre came up for air. “You’re bigger than I’ve had in awhile,” he admitted, smiling. “This is going to take some getting used to,” he said, and then he went right back to it.

Quatre started using his hand to stroke Zechs’ shaft, in tandem with his mouth, his other hand finding his balls...and Zechs came nearly instantly. 

“Shit, fuck! Shit!” Zechs seethed, jerking back, sticky cum still leaking from his cock. There was a line of it curving to Quatre’s mouth.

“Huh,” he was saying, and Zechs was breathing mighty hard. “Have you not. Has it been awhile for you?”

Zechs felt like his face was burning. “Do I look like I want to talk to you about my sex life?” he raged. Quatre loosed a smile. “What about you then? You certainly seem,” he chose his word, “experienced.”

The smile bloomed. “No, I’m not usually starved for company,” he mused, and then, seeing Zechs’ cock begin to fill with blood again, his own eyes and mouth rounding with something like _delight_ …Quatre dove right back in.

Zechs was nothing if not an egalitarian partner.

Quatre finished him off – _again_ – and then he repaid the favor, making Quatre stand as he wasn’t sure his own legs were working just yet. Quatre had one of those perfectly proportional dicks, uncut, just the right size, which was at least a partial relief. He didn’t want his fucking jaw to start hurting in the middle of this.

As he bobbed up and down on Quatre, half-listening to the sounds the man was making, Zechs wondered who would be doing this to him.

Noin was an obvious suspect. They were regular sexual partners but when she’d pressed for more of a relationship he’d said he wasn’t ready, and she’d taken him at his word. Shit. It could be her just playing some ridiculous prank on him. Who had made him come down here, anyway? He couldn’t even remember now. Shit.

He could fit Quatre’s whole cock into his mouth.

Quatre absolutely _loved_ that.

Zechs nearly rolled his eyes as he sought to comply, deep throating Quatre over and over and over again, until Quatre was grabbing a fistful of Zechs’s hair, and cumming right into Zechs’s open mouth.

Well. Fine.

Zechs swallowed, coughing only a little probably at the _surprise_ of it all, pulling back and touching his lips. He glared up at Quatre.

“Don’t touch the hair.”

Quatre puffed a laugh. 

“Noted,” he said.

  
  


“So, what do you know about this drug?” Quatre asked, a bit later. They were both sitting on the couch again, jerking themselves off individually, as something of a change.

“Not enough,” Zechs grunted. It was hard to think and wank at the same time.

“You seemed to recognize it. You knew it wouldn’t kill us.”

“I’m not completely sure of that any more,” Zechs grit out. He scooted closer to Quatre, grabbed his wrist, dragged Quatre’s hand to his own cock while his larger hand took hold of Quatre. It was better sometimes when it wasn’t your own work. To his credit Quatre didn’t miss a beat.

Zechs groaned with pleasure. “I know – “ god that felt good. “It stops when – you get a good enough flood of oxytocin. But it takes a fucking lot.”

“Huh,” Quatre said, mildly distracted, watching Zechs handle his dick with measured, easy strokes. “Like, this isn’t enough?”

“No you have to – “ Zechs was watching himself jerk off Quatre too. Quatre’s breathing was becoming labored. Zechs wondered if maybe he should just switch to his mouth again, finish him properly. No, conserve strength. Quatre dropped his own hands to prop his hips up, and Zechs started moving with purpose and vigor. Quatre came, with a muffled groan, the spurt of semen going right into the air. It fell on top of Zechs’ hand, actually, and he had the overwhelming urge to lick it up for no good reason. Shit. Stupid drug.

Quatre’s hand darted out, collecting as much as he could with his fingers and palm, then slathering it all over Zechs’ raging hard on. Shit. The lubrication was amazing, Quatre’s hand so warm, and his breathing went ragged. “You have to – “ he panted. Quatre was fucking beautiful. “You have to – “ he tried to say again. “You have to fucking want it!” he shouted, as he found release again, and his cum splashed all over his own shirt.

They were sitting on the cold cement floor, facing away from each other, trying to give themselves break.

“What did you mean,” Quatre said, thinking out loud, “when you said you had to want it?”

Zechs grunted. He thought of cold cold things. His balls were already starting to go numb on the concrete and he needed to keep it that way.

“The joy of release wasn’t enough. You had to like the person.”

That – okay. Hm. No. Okay, he was safe for now.

“Huh.” Quatre was silent for a long time. “So what, we don’t like each other enough?”

“Apparently not.”

“I think you’re okay.”

The corner of Zechs’ lip hitched. “Just...okay?” He realized he’s been speaking to Quatre like an underling. Which, he was, but, he was Special Agent Winner, in point of fact. He wasn’t some new recruit. He was a former Gundam Pilot, just like him.

“Why did you join Preventers,” Zechs blurt, not really knowing why.

Quatre laughed softly. “I get that question a lot, actually.” He paused to reflect maybe, choosing his words. He ultimately sighed, which was a nice sound. “I guess it’s just because I thought here was where I could do the most good.”

“Hm,” Zechs said. It was a trite line, probably. Definitely not to be taken at face value, except, for one, Quatre had no reason to lie, and for another, he sounded so genuine when he said it. “And,” Zechs licked his lips. “Do you? Do you think you’ve done...good?”

“For the most part yes.”

Zechs was silent again.

He could hear Quatre turn his head. 

“You’ve got another hard on haven’t you.”

It took a moment to grind out the word. “Yes.”

“Yes well so do I. Mouths or hands this time?”

“I’m not sure that will have the desired result.”

“Oh?”

Zechs was trying hard not to turn around.

“No I think we need to escalate. I would gladly fuck you in the ass, Quatre, but it seems irresponsible. We’ve been irresponsible enough already.”

“Huh.”

Zechs finally looked over his shoulder. Quatre wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at one of the crates, his head tilted. “But doesn’t that one say _profilacticos_ on it?”

“Fucking shit,” Zechs swore, and he stood, cock straight out and bobbing with his movements, as he crossed to it. He put his cock in his hand to avoid hitting anything.

“Christ,” he spat, shoving off the unmarked crate on top of it, using his bare hand to rip off the top.

Inside were bags...and bags...of condoms.

And lubricant. 

“What kind of hangar _is this?_ ” Quatre wondered aloud, at his side, and Zechs’s shoulders lost all their tension. 

“I don’t even fucking know,” he said, as he grabbed the nearest bag and ripped it open with his teeth.

Fucking Quatre was...fine. Honestly, it was. He’d had experience with other men, not a lot, and mostly in cadet school, where a mild curiosity and lack of other options had led to some memorable results. 

Quatre wasn’t some scrawny teenager, though.

They were required as Preventers to maintain peak physical condition, and Quatre clearly took this seriously. He was solidly muscled, especially in his torso and legs and thighs, and certainly agile. 

Dripping lube over his cock while he had Quatre bent over the arm of the couch, watching it disappear into the man’s ass inch by glorious inch…he’d forgotten how good it felt. He made a mental note, actually: have more ass sex.

Quatre made a mewing sound, and Zechs started to move.

They found release like that, Zechs in the condom inside Quatre, Quatre in his own hand, and then they decided to head in opposite directions to see what might be found in other crates.

“I found...cheese curls,” Zechs shouted, voice echoing through the small hangar.

“I found cheese _puffs_ ,” Quatre called back, and Zechs huffed a laugh.

He checked the sell by date and opened a bag, testing one for signs of decay. No, they tasted...fine.

He found a gallon of bottled water and brought that too. Actually, he brought two gallons. They’d exerted themselves.

“Stop on either side of this giant crate? I found blankets,” Quatre’s voice said, and Zechs could see the top of his golden hair over the top of the wooden box. Zechs grunted acknowledgment, finding a folded blanket acting as a floor cushion, on his side of the barrier. 

“I found water,” he said, and he dropped one gallon on top of the crate and then took up his seat. 

There was only the sound of snack crunching and water glugging, for awhile.

“Why are _you_ in Preventers?” Quatre asked, and just the sound of his voice had Zechs coughing and sliding off of the blanket onto the cold hard floor. He still hadn’t put on pants; hadn’t really seemed worth the effort.

“Same as,” he started to say. “Same as uh, you. Wanted a better world.”

More silence. They needed to eat and rehydrate while they could.

And then Quatre said: “You were in Santo Domino, weren’t you?”

The coldness of the floor seemed to grip his insides, then.

“...Yeah,” Zechs said. “I was.” More silence, but, a companionable one. “And weren’t you a part of the Scorpio mission?”

Another brief silence. And then, quiet: “I was, yeah.”

Zechs released a breath. It was easy to forget that they were both soldiers, really, which was a shame. Quatre...look, he was a beautiful, beautiful man. He had large blue eyes, golden blonde hair, a small mouth you just wanted to pry open and _fuck_ , and – 

Shit.

Maybe he’d said that part out loud. 

“Again?” Quatre called out, and Zechs could hear the sounds of him clapping his hands together.

“Again,” Zechs swore, and he stood in a mighty rush.

He’d completely lost count of the number of orgasms he’d had when the next one rolled through him, and they closed their eyes on top of the blankets just to get some rest, for as long as the drug would fucking let them. _Shit_ , this drug.

Zechs woke up before him.

He knew some things immediately: one, yes, his dick was fucking hard _again_ and the pressure inside his balls was near _bursting_ , but also…

Quatre was so, fucking, attractive.

It wasn’t fair, almost. It made it…easier, of course, but…

He couldn’t decide if the drug was altering his thought processes, too, but…he sort of didn’t think so. Sex with someone would do that on its own, and, in the last (what) six, seven, eight, twenty (?) hours…they’d had a lot of sex. He felt like he could close his eyes and conjure the feeling of Quatre’s ass around his dick perfectly, now. Or the easy way his lips parted, or the feel of his tongue against his balls.

That was easy. So. Maybe he would be noticing the rest…anyway.

Quatre had these long dark lashes that fell like feathers on his cheeks, and between all the cold and the exertion his cheeks were a rosy shade of pink. He also noted, well, the rather impressive hard on. Zechs smirked.

He’d learned a lot about Special Agent Winner that he hadn’t known before: he was a very competent lover, he had a magnificent cock, and he had a decent sense of humor. There was a moment, where, Zechs’s cum had splashed quite unexpectedly all over his face, getting into his right eye. For some reason they’d both _laughed_ , and Quatre had said something – he’d have to ask what because – apart from everything else, he sort of didn’t want to forget it.

Add that to what he knew about Special Agent Winner the soldier, and…shit. Well. His testicles gave a vicious sort of squeeze, a buildup of pressure he didn’t want but by now definitely recognized. And though he had plenty of options, he…he was…he was going to do it, actually.

Zechs pulled his arm away from Quatre’s middle, moving gently so as not to wake him. It took half his torso muscles to lean stealthily to Quatre’s other side, and then, he sank down the blanket, until he was staring full on at Quatre’s erection.

And before he could even question what he was doing he was…he was leaning forward, and kissing the tip.

He could feel Quatre wake with a jolt, but Zechs had somewhat anticipated this. He opened his mouth and leaned forward, sucking the whole head past his teeth, effectively trapping Quatre in place. The confirming hiss had him nearly grinning.

Instead he started sucking him, his head bowing and lifting, gentle and easy just the way Quatre liked to be started, the side of his face rubbing against his tangled hair and the blanket. They’d found a hair tie at some point, but Zechs had a lot of hair; it was coming loose.

“ _Shit, Zechs_ ,” Quatre whispered, and Zechs’s cock gave a painful throb. He couldn’t fully stop the wince, and he definitely didn’t stop the grunt of pain. Ugh. Okay, speed this up then. Time to speed this up. He took Quatre all the way in his mouth, his hand coming up to touch Quatre’s balls, rolling them gently. He knew Quatre’s mouth was dropping open, that the puff of air was indicative of his heightened arousal.

The tip of Quatre’s cock was nearly touching the back of Zechs’s throat, but it wasn’t bothering him. He pulled back, pushed in. And then he felt Quatre twisting above him, a soft whining noise, and Zechs pulled back preparing to yell at him to quit it already he was doing good work, when he realized, that Quatre was angling for his cock.

Shit, what, he was going to say _no?_

Zechs focused on his breathing as Quatre moved around on the blanket, leaving his pretty cock in Zechs’ line of sight, reaching for Zechs’ cock with his hands and mouth. _Shit_ , shit, okay, okay. Zechs was taller than him, by about a foot, but that was mostly in his legs, so it didn’t take much to curl his body to accommodate the difference. The first touch of Quatre’s wet mouth against his sensitive skin had a break of air coming from his nose, and then he took Quatre’s cock into his mouth again.

Shit. Shit, okay, focus. Focus on what he was doing, on what he knew Quatre liked. He was going to have to add _quick study_ to Quatre’s list of attributes because holy shit he was about to blow it. No, no, _focus, focus._ He tried to breathe. It was fucking impossible, because of what Quatre’s mouth was doing to him, how full he felt from having Quatre’s cock in the back of his throat. He worked him over as best he could, his face darting, his hair tangling, the pressure near blinding, waiting for release.

“I’m going to – “ Quatre panted, his breath falling all around the head of Zechs’s cock.

Zechs groaned in absolute pleasure, deep throating the _fuck_ out of Quatre, and within moments, nearly on top of each other, they were both coming.

Quatre was gasping, choking, his mouth popping off even though Zechs wasn’t completely done yet. The mental image of getting it all over his face – Zechs closed his eyes, took his mouth off Quatre’s cock, and moved.

He moved, and, swept a hand under Quatre’s torso, tugging him upright. Quatre landed with a slight bounce on hands and knees, and Zechs propped himself up right behind him, his cock still fully erect. It hadn’t even flagged, after, and he lined himself up at Quatre’s opening.

Quatre gasped, turning, as Zechs looked between them, leaned forward, and opened his mouth.

Saliva and Quatre’s cum dribbled past his lips, dropping with precision all over Zechs’s messy dick. Quatre _groaned_ and dropped his head, his eyes closing. He was probably hard again too.

Zechs nearly closed his eyes. Just the thought of it sent a rush of heat and pleasure through his thighs. His hand slid all over his cock, spreading the lubrication. What was left on his hand he pressed against Quatre, smearing it over him, pressing just the tip of his thumb inside. Quatre moaned again, rocking ever so slightly, and Zechs exhaled roughly.

He tested himself inside then, the bulbous head of his dick pressing against pressure, the pure relief when Quatre let him inside. Ugh. Pleasure rolled in his balls immediately, but, he didn’t want to let go all at once. Zechs ran his clean hand down Quatre’s back, feeling all of the muscles beneath his perfect skin. God. Didn’t the man come from the sun? And yet, every inch was…perfect. Absolutely…perfect.

Zechs attempted movement, to the satisfied mewing of his partner. Yes. He ran his hand up Quatre’s back again, gripping his shoulder to find purchase so he could find some sort of rhythm.

This was where he became truly alive. His legs would have wobbled, but he was not just any man. His mind would be cloudy, but he was not just any man. He would not have the stamina, but he was not just any man. He was fucking Zechs Merquise, the Lightning Count, and he was going to fuck Quatre in the ass until they were both coming – again.

Quatre seemed to have a similar thought pattern, because soon he was meeting Zechs, his hips rolling, and Zechs gave a grunt of pleasure. God it was one thing to, but another thing entirely to gi—god he couldn’t form the words. Quatre was warm and tight around his dick, and all his thoughts converged. _Fuck_.

He pulled out, flipping Quatre over onto his back. The man went willingly, his legs out and curving around Zechs’s hips, tugging him back in. He went willingly.

It was almost easier, the second time, to slip inside, and the pressure of it all was devastating.

“Kiss me,” Quatre murmured, and Zechs decided he was going to, anyway.

Their lips met just as Zechs pressed all the way in, and their mouths angled so they could open. A surge of warmth rushed through him then, Quatre’s hands draping around his shoulders and neck. He was so…pliant. So beautiful. So wonderful. So…everything. Zechs didn’t want to take his mouth away, as he started to move again, as his hips moved out and in, his testicles brushing against Quatre’s ass in a way he could barely feel, with everything else.

“I’m going to cum inside you,” Zechs murmured, a promise, and Quatre moaned against his mouth, his tongue darting past his lips to tag Zechs’s.

Zechs’ hips increased their tempo, the churning in his balls almost too much to bear. He reached out for Quatre’s cock, felt it warm and heavy in his hands, and tried to move his hand and his hips in time. It was impossible. It was too much. Quatre’s hand covered his own, and Zechs groaned into Quatre’s open mouth, ceding the pace of his hand, as Quatre moved their hands together.

He was definitely, going to come. He said so again, mumbled into a kiss. Zechs increased his pace, using his other hand to run all over Quatre’s skin. He had no anchor besides his own strength, but he barely needed it. He dropped his free hand anyway, needing to feel Quatre in his hand, needing to feel him around his cock. “ _I’m going to cum inside of you_ ,” he said again, and Quatre nodded, emphatic, arching and twisting beneath him.

And it was nothing, it was everything, but there was a beautiful cascade, then, the series of dominos that led to Zechs’ release.

He dumped entirely inside Quatre’s ass, barely aware that Quatre began to stroke himself in earnest. _“Fuck_ ,” Zechs murmured, staring at their joined hands, at their joined bodies, and he flicked his gaze up and found Quatre with his eyes screwed tightly shut. He could have frowned except it was too wonderful. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said again, using his free hand to tilt Quatre’s chin down, so Quatre was opening his eyes, so they would round when he could see what Zechs was seeing, so Zechs could slide his hand behind Quatre’s neck and prop him in place so Quatre could watch, and see, and so he could cum, with a shout, a shout that Zechs swallowed when he crushed their lips together again.

Quatre’s cum splattered against both their chests. It was hot and sticky, and Zechs felt his skin warm all over.

There was a moment for just breathing.

And then Quatre sighed.

“That was it, wasn’t it,” he said, and Zechs didn’t want to answer all at once.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

Quatre nodded. Neither moved.

After an interminable amount of time, Quatre sort of…laughed, a little. It was almost a sad sound. “Is it wrong that I’m almost…disappointed?”

Zechs didn’t want to answer that, didn’t even really want to talk about it.

Fuck.

It was…it was over. Shit.

“We should clean up,” he said instead, and as gingerly as possible, he pulled back. Quatre winced when he was fully out, but recovered quickly, sitting upright when Zechs did.

Zechs was still testing out the feeling in his limbs, the feelings in his chest. There was a gentle, not unpleasurable, _warmth_ – almost like a glow, beneath his skin. From intuition and experience he knew it was the aftereffects of the drug, now neutralized, workings its way through his system. God what a terrible thing.

Zechs stood, and he offered his hand down to Quatre. It wasn’t until he was looking up at him, surprised, that he realized it might be inappropriate. He followed through anyway.

Zechs helped Quatre to stand and then they looked around the hangar, Zechs idly wondering where he’d left the bulk of his clothes. “I think I still have the cloths somewhere,” Quatre murmured, walking over to the crate where they’d found the most use through the night. He fished a packet of the cold wet cloths, as well as a clean towel, and threw both in Zechs’s direction. He caught them both handily.

They cleaned up individually, not necessarily awkwardly, a stretch of space between them preserved for the rationalization that they had probably just been put through something…and that now it was over.

Zechs finished first, stalking to where their clothes were scattered, following a haphazard trail back to the couch where everything had started. He had to keep holding clothes against himself to see which was his, so, it was lucky really, that Quatre was smaller than him. He shrugged on his briefs and his pants, slung his shirt over his shoulder, and delivered Quatre’s clothes to him.

Quatre smiled warmly when he saw what Zechs was carrying. God, even post-coital the man had no embarrassment over anything, apparently. And he – well – Zechs figured he really had no reason to be modest, after all.

Zechs went back to the couch to put on his socks and shoes.

It wasn’t long before Quatre joined him.

“How long before someone comes to collect us, do you think?” Quatre asked. He wasn’t sitting on the total opposite end, but, he wasn’t necessarily sitting _close_ , either.

“Dunno,” Zechs said, honestly. It depended on whether anyone was watching or not, and, he wasn’t ready to think about that, yet.

They were silent for a few moments.

“What – “ Zechs found himself asking, and he tried to stop himself, his hand tightening on his knee. No. Fuck it. “What happened with Agent Barton?”

Quatre sighed and leaned back on the couch. “With Trowa? Well. It was a lot of things, I guess. Work, mostly. We just…I dunno, really. It just didn’t…just wasn’t working, in the end.”

Zechs tried to process that information, let it roll through his mind. They were engaged. That sort of thing didn’t just – and why would – it wasn’t his business. He tried to commit to that idea. _It wasn’t his business._

There was a loud _clunk_ , like something metal being released from a door.

Both men stood immediately.

Zechs’ hard gaze was trained on the only entrance to the hangar, and he stepped carefully in its direction, not looking away, as he avoided crates to get a tactical vantage. He needed to murder whoever walked in first, probably. Murder or –

Quatre was right behind him.

The doors opened.

Zechs took a half-step in front of his friend.

And then _Heero_ … _fucking_ … _Yuy_ walked right through the doors.

Zechs’ vision flashed red.

He was moving before he even knew why he was moving, before he was considering every possible outcome.

“ _Yuy_ ,” he snarled, grabbing the front of his jacket, lifting him clear off the ground.

He completely _hated_ the cool gaze he was given in return.

“Hey man, put Heero down.”

Zechs glared past Agent Yuy, seeing Agent Maxwell, and Major Po ( _Major Po?_ ) and fucking Chang Wufei strolling in behind him. _What the fuck?_

 _“Talk_ ,” Zechs raged. His voice was primal.

Chang was the bravest of the bunch, apparently. “You already know what happened. This was a controlled experiment. It’s over now.”

“Whose – _fucking_ – _idea – was this,”_ Zechs grunted, and he was proud of himself for not shaking his sister’s boyfriend in the process.

“That would be mine,” Major Po said, stepping forward. She had a folder under one arm, and she put both hands behind her back.

Zechs’s gaze narrowed on her.

“ _Explain_.”

She had the decency to look away, for a moment.

“I believe you’re aware of this special nerve agent, code name, _Clear Spring_.” _Clear Spring what a terrible fucking name_ “We knew that it worked, and how it might be used, based on Agent Noin’s report. What we didn’t know was whether it could be used operationally on people who had very little regard for one another, or any apparent compatibilities at all.”

Zechs felt the hairs on the back of his neck…stand. What?

“ _Whose idea was this?_ ” he repeated, voice louder, and everyone knew what he meant.

“Um.” Duo was trying to speak. _Bad idea._ “I think it was a group decision? Now I can’t remember.”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is the experiment is over. We’ll debrief tomorrow.”

Zechs felt as if he’d need the whole day to calm down.

He felt his hands tighten on Yuy’s shirt.

“And you were watching.”

Yuy – damn him – was managing to avoid being strangled with an impressive grip on Zechs’s forearms.

“Yes,” he admitted too readily. _His mistake._ “And _only_ – me.”

“It’s true,” Duo groused, crossing his arms. “I tried to get in after midnight but I didn’t even get past the freaking doors.”

“Agent _Maxwell_ ,” Major Po snapped. “I’ll see you in my office after this.”

“Ah shit, shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

Zechs was glaring up at Yuy, trying to decide if he had enough reason to punch the living shift out of him. Yuy was staring back, evenly, without malice, but with the certain edge that said he would fight back if necessary. Ugh. Wait. Fuck. It was weird enough to be watched, but to be watched by the guy who was fucking his sister he just – he did not want to think about that, for a hundred years, probably. Shit.

Zechs dropped Yuy to the ground.

He stared ahead, then, looking past everyone and out the doors that would lead to…outside. His freedom. His own fucking apartment.

Zechs angled his head back in Quatre’s direction.

“Let’s go,” he said, and he appreciated that no one had tried to bother Winner. He started walking toward the door.

“And you,” he said, pausing right beside Agent Maxwell. “You get to clean up after us.”

“What!” Duo yelped, pretty much to Zechs’ immediate pleasure. “Aw, come on. Major? Back me up here.”

“That’s an order, Agent Maxwell,” she said, and it really sounded like she was grinning when she said it.

Zechs was still smirking when he walked into the hall, feeling like he was breathing his first breath of clean air in days. Years. Whatever.

He…he purposefully slowed his steps, then, his Preventers jacket tucked under one arm.

And he walked that slowly, until Quatre matched his stride, at his side.

They were silent for a bit.

“I’m not really sure whether to laugh or cry,” Quatre admitted, staring at the ground.

Zechs glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and snorted for lack of a more sophisticated response. He hadn’t really thought through it all, either. Wait, had he really just been subjected to a Preventers-sanctioned _sex experiment?_ That…god, he’d have to think about that later. For now he was struggling with strange feelings of proximity and affection for this person he wasn’t used to thinking about. Tenderness, even. Shit. He was probably feeling some god damn tenderness.

They were reaching the end of the hallway.

“I uh.” Quatre turned to look at him, but Zechs could only maintain eye contact for a moment. “That is, if it’s what you want – “ _shit just spit it out_ “I…have memories, of you and Barton together. I hope you can work it out, if that’s what you want.”

He sort of expected Quatre’s wide-eyed gaze, the slight tinge of warmth that came to his cheeks. And then the smile, the small little smile, as maybe some of his god damn feelings of whatever were reciprocated.

He would not think about that if his life depended on it, probably.

“Thanks, Milliardo,” Quatre said, and it startled him, a little, because he often forgot that Quatre, as a former Gundam Pilot, would know who he was. He generally kept that to himself, didn’t really like to have it as common knowledge.

Zechs watched as Quatre took the hallway towards his own personal offices.

And it took him just a bit too long to move.


End file.
